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“Oh, you’ll understand some day,” said Geoffrey loftily; “you are too young now.”

There had been great excitement in the house that afternoon. Loveday had been having toothache frequently for some time. Whenever she drank anything hot or cold, or ate anything sweet, or put a lollipop in her mouth, her tooth had begun to jump and ache; and as she was generally doing one or the other, or wanting to, Loveday’s life lately had not been a bed of roses, any more than had the lives of those who had to relieve her pain and stop her sobs. So at last her father had decided that the tooth must go. It was slightly loose already and decayed, and Loveday was assured that she would know no comfort while it remained in her mouth; but if it was taken away another would soon grow, they told her, and she was promised some sweets and a shilling when the operation was over, if she bore it bravely.

Loveday had to think the matter over a little before she gave her consent, for though she hated having pain and not being allowed to eat sweets, she did like to have a wobbly tooth, one that she could move with her tongue, and she had hoped that if she waited a little while it would not hurt her when it wobbled.